Cupid's Chokehold
by keeponsmilingg
Summary: Variations of an arbitrary day filled with sticky kisses, candy hearts, and love songs. Cupid's got his arrow ready, and it's being aimed at our favorite couple.
1. Our Day Will Come

The fact that I'm so emotionally invested in these two is a little ridiculous, but amazing nonetheless. I'm going to try out some Valentine's Day-ish Samcedian One-Shots until February 14th, if that's alright with y'all! Feel free to send me any prompts. I have some ideas of my own, but will appreciate your input! This is just the first installment, so things will get cheesier as they go along.

I give credit to Conflict Fetish for the last part of this one. Something they recently said inspired me. Also, no disrespect to Nickelback or anyone that likes them, lol.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee! **

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><p>"You'd rather shave your hair off?"<p>

Mercedes' disbelief in Sam's declaration was rather comical. Their game of Would You Rather had gone from teetering the line of ridiculousness to running into the end zone of insanity.

"It was _that_ or Nickelback, Mercedes!"

"It's your _hair_, Sam!"

The couple's game started out with typical questions, but when Mercedes added Nickelback into the mix, it turned into a bashing fest. Neither of them cared for the band's whiny soft rock ballads. So when Mercedes first asked her boyfriend if he'd rather be stuck in a cage with a tiger or listen to one of their songs, he jokingly went with the tiger. Sam had her convinced that his impressions would make the tiger laugh, thus saving his life. After that, something bizarre went against Nickelback every round and the band always lost.

"It's _Nickelback_!" Sam protested. He proceeded to do an impression of the lead singer and started "singing" their song, Photograph. He'd only hit a few notes before Mercedes' tiny hand clamped over his mouth. The grin she was sporting was just as rewarding as the laugh that followed.

"Sam, not even _you_ can make that song appealing to me," she teased him. He pretended to take offense even though he didn't disagree with her. At that moment, a light bulb went off in his head as he thought of the perfect scenario.

"Okay, my turn! Would you rather…listen to Nickelback, or listen to Rachel Berry talk for four hours?" Sam's green orbs sparkled—he gnawed down on his lip to keep his amusement under wraps, but failed. His girl's mouth fell agape before closing it back to shake her head.

"Sam Evans, that's just cruel!" He frowned once she slipped out of his embrace. The two had been in a very comfortable position—Mercedes' had lay upon her guy's shoulder, sitting between his legs. Sam claimed their spot under a tree early on so they could overlook the lake.

"You made _me_ choose between two awful things!" He exclaimed referring to her previous scenario that included the choices of going to a Nickelback concert or snapping his limited edition Avatar DVD in half. She'd filled his ears with a melodic giggle when he ultimately chose the concert.

"Yea, but this is worse, and you know it." Although she knew that all of these situations had intended to be hypothetical, it was still fun to play along. Mercedes reluctantly took his hand that he offered and started to play with their entwined fingers. It'd been enough to distract her, and Sam took the chance to pull her into his lap. Now he was the one who had to look up at her. Sam happily rewarded her chaste kiss on the mouth for her lack of protest. "I'm too heavy" had been her normal words whenever they were in this position. Considering the circumstances, Mercedes was happy to oblige.

Their proximity suddenly questioned Mercedes' ability to breathe. They'd been together all day—first stopping by the fair that was in town to ride their favorite Tilt-A-Whirl, eating ice cream, and now the lake. It was the way his eyes spoke for him that had her insides performing all sorts of gymnastics. In an attempt to keep her from running, Sam often had to bite his tongue. He tried his best, but his face always gave it away. This time, they appeared to reflect musings of a wedding proposal and beyond. The connection had been so strong that she had to force her eyes away from his.

"What are the circumstances?" Mercedes' voice was barely a whisper. Sam's brow furrowed, indicating that he'd clearly forgotten about their current game.

"Huh?" Thick with emotion, his voice matched her level of intensity.

"What is Rachel talking about, and how many songs would I have to listen to?" The diva inquired as she had to hold herself back from his mouth.

The sly grin returned almost immediately once Sam conjured up the details. Mercedes only groaned knowing that whatever he was about to say would be completely unfair.

"Rachel just had an argument with Finn, so she has tons to say. And…you'd have to listen to an entire album." The hysterics had begun before he'd finished his sentence—tears of laughter forming at the brims of his eyes.

Mercedes lost it as well, only calming down once that powerful air between them settled once again. Her hair swept across her eyes, prompting Sam to tuck those pieces away. His fingers acted like torches of fire. The places he touched were set ablaze, and she was certain she'd never get rid of that feeling.

"Given the circumstances…" It was difficult to complete her thoughts once Sam's lips found a home at the curve of her neck. They were starving, and her skin was the only supplement on a desert island. Mercedes warned him about leaving his love bites before, but she currently couldn't find a fuck to give. His lips were magic—dark magic enchantments that were up to no good. She'd almost let him cast his spell until she saw into the future. The thought of this being one of the last times Mercedes would get his kisses was a douse of ice cold water.

"I'd listen to the album, then. Lord knows the sound of Berry's voice when she isn't singing is anything by pleasant."

There was no lust in her voice, the diva in her emerging fast. His mouth was gone quicker than it took him to latch on. He knew this game—they both played it. Sam and Mercedes were one in the same when it came down to wearing their emotions. She'd said nothing and everything, which let Sam know that the occasion wasn't right to try and go a step further.

"It's an entire album, love. You'd really do that to your ears?" Sam asked, playing along in a game different from their current one—one that'd neither of them would win.

It'd only been two weeks since Sam dropped the news that had sent both of them into an emotional frenzy. His father, who worked hard and deserved this, would finally be receiving a stable income. Said income would take them out of that motel, finally. Said income would also be taking them to Kentucky. After the initial shock, both of them took turns in keeping the spirit alive. On the days that reality hit Mercedes particularly, Sam and his impressions had those tears dry in a matter of seconds. Whenever it was Sam's turn to mope, Mercedes always had a song that had him asking for more. They were the perfect team—which had been what hurt the most about the entire situation. Today was his last in Lima, and Sam had to force himself to ignore the traces of sadness Mercedes carried with her the entire day. One moment they'd be laughing and enjoying themselves. The next, he'd catch her staring off into space. They'd promised to try and make the best out of it—to act as if it was any other day. Thinking about what would happen at the end of the night made that harder to accomplish.

"It's Rachel Berry, Sam. You'd want me to do _that_ to my ears?" Her sass set off a firecracker in his soul. His laughing fit had his stomach in knots.

"Ouch," he winced as he held his stomach. Sam was close to blowing chunks. He immediately regretted his consumption of fair food. Mercedes paid him no sympathy. She knew his food choices and actions that followed had been the cause.

"Does eating an entire funnel cake and getting on the Tilt-A-Whirl afterward sound like a good idea now?"

The teasing didn't last long. Mercedes fished a bottle of Tums out of her purse—she was always prepared due to Sam's unbalanced eye to stomach ratio.

"You've always got me, lady," the blond gratefully thanked Mercedes. The apology had truly been just an apology at first until that asshole of the truth came knocking on their door. The sun began to set behind her head, casting this glow upon her. He'd never know exactly what he did to deserve this woman, but he was going to cherish this moment as long as he could.

"I'm going to miss this so much," Mercedes confessed. She'd held it in all day, but of course Sam through it all. He shut him out by closing her eyelids. Everything about him had become too much and now she was fighting her least favorite battle of tears.

Sam's arms were steel and he used that to his advantage. It was impossible for them to get any closer. They were now face to face, listening to one another take gentle breaths of air. His strong armor had been taking hits all day, and Mercedes' most recent statement had him holding his bravery together with shaky hands.

"I thought we weren't going to do that today? I'm not going anywhere, remember?" Sam's jaw clenched, hurt when he saw disbelief flash across her gorgeous face.

"Sam—_don't_."

"A few hours away isn't shit to me! _This_ is yours, forever," he'd taken her hands and placed them over his rapidly beating heart. The turn of events had him frustrated and exhausted. Sam wanted so badly for his lady to understand him—or accept what he was saying, rather.

Since the beginning of their time together, he'd had the ability to render her speechless—this time being no exception. He was done with playing this game. Time was running out and didn't want to leave without being truthful.

"I'm done with swimming in the shallow end with you, baby. My feelings for you are deep—scary deep. You might break up with me, but I'm _not_ breaking up with you."

They were seventeen years old, and in Mercedes' mind, that was too young to be feeling the way she was. She'd shrugged off her visions of their wedding day earlier in the summer, but it'd still frightened her that she'd had them. Now that their future together seemed impossible, she wished she hadn't put those ridiculous thoughts in her mind. It made this goodbye much more difficult. And if she wasn't already freaking out, Sam's promise of forever was equally terrifying.

"I'm the happiest I've ever been with you! Not just 'happy because people want me to be', but _genuinely happy_. Mercedes, love, if keep crying, I don't know if I'll be able to get through this."

It might as well been raining on her face—the levy breaking just moments before. Mercedes had nowhere to run this time. Her heart and mind were having an intense debate, and she was honestly afraid to declare a winner.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way, Sam. We weren't supposed to fall in love for _this_ reason exactly. Now I have all of these feelings and I don't know what to do with them because you're leaving tomorrow!"

"If things always happened the way that they should have, a lot of shit in this world would be fucked up," Sam stressed with his growing frustration. He knew he'd struck a nerve by the complete 180 she took. Both of them were gazing out at the water letting silence overcome their troubled minds.

"My family wasn't supposed to move to Lima, and I wasn't supposed to join Glee Club. My father wasn't supposed to lose his job, and we weren't supposed to lose our house either. But all of it happened, Mercy! Life deals us a bunch of crap, but we have to deal. For a while there, I lost my way, but God has a plan. You wanna know how I know that?"

When there was no answer, he pressed on anyway. This wasn't the end for them, and Sam knew it. He just wished she'd had a little more faith in herself to accept the way he felt.

"I know because _you're_ in my life. He didn't put you here just because. You have a purpose—_we_ have a purpose. Our day will come, I believe it." It wasn't much, he thought, but he'd put his all into showing her that he cared over the summer. Sam wasn't the best with his words, which is why he'd spent so much time telling her in other ways. It was just him and her on this warm summer night, and all he had was his heart. If that wasn't enough, he honestly didn't know what else he could do.

"I believe it, too." Sam lifted his head to find that she was facing him again. Her words were faint, almost as if it were a figment of his imagination. But they were there, nonetheless, and it was the light that needed to see.

"And until that day, can we enjoy this without any more tears? I'm exhausted," Mercedes let out a much needed laugh. For the first time, she was going to let it be. Day by day, was the process she'd chosen. Sam had come into her life and knocked a hole into her walls, and if even she had the help of an entire construction team, rebuilding them would take some work. She had time to freak out about her future, but she chose another day for that. She had her guy, he had her. Whatever the consequences may be, Mercedes would have to take on that obstacle later.

"In that case, I think it's the perfect time to give you your Valentine's Day gift!" With a little too much excitement, Sam popped up from his spot and retrieved the backpack he'd brought along.

His surprise that he'd spent so much time and effort preparing almost fell into the back of his mind. Whilst Sam set up, he said not a word, which had Mercedes wondering if she'd have to call the insanity ward tonight.

"Sam, baby, it's July. Maybe we should have gotten you a calendar for your going away gift…."

The laptop that he asked Mercedes to bring was in the process of powering up and he'd gone in for another kiss. It'd been way too long since their last, in his opinion.

"Just pretend it's February, then! Besides, I should be able to show you how much I love you any day. Not just on Valentine's Day," he said tasting her lips once more. She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. Sam Evans was a force to reckon with, but she wasn't mad at him—_at all_. The boy had a mission, and he always followed through.

"So, Happy Valentine's Day, Mercy!" Sam revealed a thin, rectangular box wrapped in red paper—the bow holding it together sparkling silver.

"Boy!"

"Just open it, please?" It didn't take much for him to convince her. She was careful with her unwrapping, eventually revealing a DVD case. The cover was blank and mysterious, Sam keeping quiet as Mercedes bombarded him with questions. He'd grant her no quarter, and only did the honor of loading the DVD into her laptop. Mercedes fell back into his embrace as the media player popped up and started playing a video.

Sam's face appeared on the screen, and she could already feel the waterworks. He was standing in the exact spot they were sitting. The kid was the death of her, for sure.

"Hey Mercy! It's Sam here. Not that you wouldn't know that…um. What?" His brow furrowed and he started to argue with whoever was filming.

"Whatever, so this started out as a video with just me in it, but once Stacey and Stevie found out what I was doing, they wanted in. After that, more and more people started to find out, and now you have this DVD. I hope you love it, baby. Happy Valentine's Day!

Sam stared at the screen for a while until he relaxed. "Is the camera off?"

"Yep!" Mercedes recognized Artie's voice and laughed once Sam expressed how hungry he was and wanted to get back as soon as possible.

"I begged him to cut that out!" Sam exclaimed, but Mercedes only responded with a kiss to the cheek.

The screen faded to black and purple text that read Reasons Why I Love Mercedes Jones bounced around. Every scene included someone talking about her at one of their date spots. Stacey and Stevie gave an electric performance that had Mercedes digging her nails in Sam's skin. Stacey started to cry at the end and Stevie even hugged her. He assured her that it'd be okay and that they'd see her again one day. She'd miss those blonde angels with everything she had. Among his siblings, Sam's parents, every member of New Directions—even Berry—had something to say. Finally, the ending arrived which was a photo montage of Sam and Mercedes' summer photos. Pleased with the product, she began to show him how grateful she was when Sam reappeared with guitar in hand.

"And now to perform the greatest love song ever, I present Sam Evans!" Artie imitated an audience cheering. Mercedes just knew he was about to serenade her with an emotional ballad, and she was ready to turn it off—she'd past overwhelmed minutes ago.

"I love you, you love me…"

Her laugh had a few birds flocking out of the tree, it'd been so intense. Sam's acoustic version of Barney's "I love you" was simply ridiculous. It was simply Sam, and she didn't want him any other way.

Mercedes' memory of that day had been vivid. As she stared down at the red rose on her locker and the note attached, she actually hoped it'd be from Shane. Sam wasn't playing games once he returned to McKinley months ago. He promised he'd fight to get her back, and fighting he did. The level of crazy only increased last week when the boy put her name in lights. Her guard fell, of course, and she was caught in a mess. That kiss in the auditorium had her remembering everything she'd worked so hard to forget. Her loyalty to Shane versus her love for Sam seemed to the battle everyone thought she was dealing with, but this went deeper than the naked eye. The real love triangle had been between Mercedes, Sam, and her conscious.

_I told you our day would come. All you have to do is say yes. _

Of course the note hadn't been from her boyfriend. Ms. Pillsbury had advised Sam and Mercedes to stay clear of one another, but when that failed, the pair found themselves in deeper trouble. Just like Sam, she'd had a lot of things happen that weren't supposed to, including Sam's return. Unfortunately, she hadn't easily figured out her path. What was God's plan for her? Day by day was the process she'd chosen, but time seemed to stand still whenever Sam was around. Their day had indeed come, only it was just a bit sooner than Mercedes had expected.

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><p>Comments are appreciated :) Until then, I'll be working on the next one and Bluebird, of course.<p> 


	2. Amateurs

Thanks for all of the sweet comments and alerts! This one is AU, so nothing that has happened in the Glee-verse has happened here. Hope it's still enjoyable!

Disclaimer: No Glee for me!

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><p><em>For as long as we can remember, we've placed ourselves in certain categories. If not, society is there to do the job for you. As we get older, those categories evolve into complex dimensions—in which we have no control. The lengths that we travel to change the world's perception of us seems almost useless. Why waste energy if you've already obtained your predetermined view of who I am? We want to believe that we're open-minded individuals, but we've been taught for so long to program particular ideals about strangers. Eventually, our ability to accept change diminishes and the bubble that we live in closes us off to the great opportunities of the world.<em>

_It happens to us all, and the process begins subconsciously. To a child, recess is this small haven of freedom that always you to be anything you want to be. The playground is our one true outlet of running wild and forgetting the stresses of what goes on in the classroom. Back then, we didn't realize it, but we were the catalysts of our own peer evaluations._

_Does that kid have cool toys? _

_What candy does that girl have for me? _

_Is that boy a loser? _

_What can they do for me? _

_The questions were innocent to a five year old, but in a way we'd been collecting data to construct our own perfect societies. For me, I was no different from any other child until my parents and I moved to a different state. In Tennessee, I'd already established who I was going to be as a kid and who I wanted to surround myself with. In Lima, Ohio, the kids on the playground acted as a jury and made their verdict fast. Being the outsider and newcomer that I was, all of them had decided on the first day that my presence wasn't worthy._

_All of them but one._

Allen County Primary School was essentially the melting pot for future close-minded individuals. I'd found that out as soon as I'd been pushed to the ground and had my glasses knocked off. My spirits had been crushed and not one soul cared. I'd almost given up entirely when a distinct high-pitched voice brought me out of my sorrows and forever changed the way I looked at people different from me.

"Why are ya cryin'?"

My vision was blurred to my teary breakdown, but once she came into focus, everything about her was shining bright. I didn't know how to respond. My expectations of the kids here were decreasing by the second, but something about this girl had me reconsider my previous assumptions.

"I _said_, why are ya cryin'?" Sassy didn't even begin to describe her. She'd taken it upon herself to sit beside me. I'd winced when she reached into her pocket, but was relieved to see a lollipop being offered to me.

"You can have it. My daddy won't let me have 'em because he's a dentist. And, I just lost my front teeth!" She was proud of her accomplishments and showed me the gap, loud and proud. Even with two missing pieces of the puzzle, her smile was beautiful.

She was harmless, so it appeared, but I didn't want to test the waters just yet. I _was_ the intruder in new territory, after all, and her approval hadn't been made clear yet.

"Ugh! You're still sad. I don't like you sad. I wanna fix it! Can I?" Her brown eyes popped with excitement—I'd be stupid to stay no. The first and one of the most important things I'd learned about this girl was her selfless personality. Cautiously, I gave her my affirmation with a nod.

"Wanna see my sharks? They're so cool!" The question wasn't made to answer, and before my eyes were miniature toy sharks that happened to be her prized possession.

"Cool!" Those were the first words I'd ever said to her and she didn't seem repulsed, so I took my chances.

"What's your name? I'm Sam!" I'd planned on being anti-social for the rest of forever, but she intrigued me and I wanted to know as much as I could.

"Hi Sam, I'm Mercedes!"

"Mer—Merc…"'

"You can just call me Mercy for short! All of my family does it."

The mystery girl was no longer a mystery—her name was as unique as she was. Even at my old school, I'd never been approached like this, especially by a girl. For the remainder of recess, she talked to me about sharks, books, and singing. She'd performed a song she'd heard in church for me, and even if I didn't have the words to describe it then, I knew Mercedes had talent from out of this world.

To my dismay, Mercedes and I only saw one another in homeroom and at recess. My school days consisted of being in classes with the jerks in training, and every day got worse. Because she was so spirited, my mood was positively influenced by her, but she'd still hug me. Somehow she knew I wasn't being truthful, but instead of pushing me, she'd show me a card trick or her skills on the jungle gym. Her friendship was a rare gem—difficult to find, but easy to cherish.

My first Valentine's Day with Mercedes Jones was the day that I fell in love with her. Granted, as a kindergarten student, the concept of love was beyond me. The feeling was there, but the words escaped me. Her gift went deeper than cheap boxes of nerds attached to a card or mini Snickers bars. The day before, we'd made our mail boxes for Valentine's Day in Homeroom. She'd already given my gift by complimenting the box I'd dedicated my hard work to. The next day, Mercedes accepted my paper heart with her name in the middle with such joy.

"Sammy!" The nickname wasn't new, but she'd brought a fresh meaning to it. After moments of teasing that had my cheeks burning, my father helped me cut out the heart and add glitter glue to my art work. He even helped me spell her name. A new case of nerves took over me as she opened my card, but soon diminished as she engulfed me in a hug that said enough thanks.

"I love it! I'm gonna ask my mom to help me put it on my wall."

The glitter was a bit uneven—heavier on one side—and the writing could be improved, but Mercedes cherished my heart as imperfect as it was.

"Open mine now!"

In addition to her Buzz Light Year Valentine's card, there was a tiny box for me. Other than family, I'd never been given anything tailored just for me. My excitement turned into confusion when I saw her toy sharks displayed in the box.

"These are _your_ sharks!"

"I know, but they're my protection sharks," she said struggling with the word protection a bit. She removed them from the box for me, and explained to me exactly where she was going with this.

"When I went to the dentist the first time, I was scared! My daddy gave me these sharks to protect me. Whenever you're sad or scared, you'll have these sharks to help you."

Baffled, yet so intrigued with the thought put behind it, I only thanked her the only way I knew how. Our hug was short because our homeroom teacher Ms. Gallagher had told us to get ready for our first class of the day.

After Valentine's Day, we rarely spent time apart outside of school. My parents and hers had become accustomed to our adventures, and started to hang out on their own as well. In a way, our families had merged into one—one without the other just felt wrong.

Twelve years later, the Evans-Jones tribe had stayed close, and in 3rd and 4th grade, Stevie and Stacey were added to the pot. Mercedes and I remained friends, jumping over obstacles every step of the way, but we'd made our hurdles together. In 10th grade, I'd mustered up the courage to ask her to the Cupid's Ball at school, but got so flustered that she had to go for it herself.

"Do you want to go the dance with me, Evans?"

Sassy, but sweet was her style, the same as when we were kids. That night was a blast, and we slow danced for the first time in front of the entire school. All eyes were on us, but my eyes were on her. Mercedes Jones was all I'd ever known, and all I ever _wanted_ to know. Our lips met for the second time that night—the first when we were in fifth grade as a dare. She'd found her way into my arms, and I made it my duty to never let her go.

Two years later, I continued to honor that duty, and was proud to have been hers as long as I had.

"Are you still coming over tonight?"

The school day was over, and this year's Valentine's Day had fallen on a Friday. Kids scattered throughout the hallways making plans for the evening or whining about lack thereof. Mercedes approached me at my locker, which had been unusual because I'd always been the first to meet her. She was carrying the dozen roses I'd bought for her through the school's flower sale and a smile on her face.

"Of course," my lips spoke to hers personally, shortly after. Not only did my heart skip a beat, but it ran a mile and danced all night long.

"Great! And you have everything? I mean, I have everything just in case and…okay, stop laughing at me!" Compulsive was another word to describe Mercedes, but in the best way possible. Punctual, Poised, and Prepared—the three P's that captured her true essence. She had back-ups for back-ups, and she always hit me when I joked with her about it.

Only this time, my laugh wasn't meant to tease her. My heart never stopped pounding after our first sex discussion. She assured me that she was ready, and of course I was as well. That'd been a month ago, and it just so happened that the planets and stars aligned on Cupid's hour. Mercedes' dad had surprised her mother with a trip to Vegas for Valentine's Day, and their flight took off early this morning. My parents had taken my younger brother and sister on a spontaneous visit Tennessee to see my uncle—I'd gratefully understood and granted their wish of staying in town. They had contractors coming on Sunday and didn't want to cancel. Mercedes' choir didn't have practice the next day, and I was off from work the entire weekend.

The odds were in our favor far too much that it was almost unbelievable. The discussion to give ourselves to one another had happened so fast and now that it was actually happening…

"Are you sure about this?"

My train of thought had slowed down across the train tracks. Her insecurities were underlined and amplified in bright lights. I did my best to kiss away any reservations she had. Forgetting where I was, we were pinned against the locker in the middle of the now empty hallway. We'd broken apart, but she didn't get too far with my hands still locked on her waist.

"I have an assignment to talk about with Lafferty, but I'll be at your house around 5:00?" Mercedes initiated our final kiss and confirmed our meeting time.

The truth? The only assignment I had to work on was my problems with my conscious. I was for certain that everything was about to wrong. I was prepared, but I wasn't prepared. My dad had only talked to me about sex briefly, and the conversation involved him telling me not to. If I did, he reminded me to think _above_ the waist and to take care of her.

Pushing all thoughts aside, my knock on Mercedes' door was rapid and booming—only mirroring what my heart was doing.

Dressed only in her red tank and sleep shorts, Mercedes confirmed just how difficult it was going to be to last long. Her legs were more than inviting, but I couldn't stop staring at her face. Neither of us muttered a word as she led me upstairs to her room. I'd been in here many times before, but the aura was different in this particular moment. We were aware that we wouldn't be leaving as virgins—the thought both terrifying and exciting.

We'd explored before, but tonight had us timidly touching one another. Entangling myself from her sheets, I'd only discarded my shirt and rose from the bed.

My button wasn't even open when I heard a small noise escape her lips. I'd been going way too fast, but my apology was cut short.

"No—keep going…I mean…" She hid under the covers only for a brief moment, but I'd have none of that. I wanted her to see all of me, and I'd hoped she allow me the same.

"I want to share everything I have to give, Mercy. You can't accept it if you're hiding under the cover!" She sucked her teeth playfully and peeked from under her the fabric. We locked eyes and I promised her that everything would be okay with just one look.

I had to brace myself, but her smile gave me the confidence to go on. Only, that confidence went flying out the window seconds later when I'd revealed my boxer shorts.

"Dear _God_, Sam! What do you have on?" Mercedes managed to say through fits of giggles.

My face was as red as the shorts I was wearing. I thought long and hard about what I'd wear tonight, and due to the certain occasion, I thought I'd dress appropriately. The cupid boxers were on sale, and I liked them. Apparently, the idea wasn't as awesome as I'd foreseen it to be.

"I knew it was stupid," I mumbled, unable to look at her anymore—my embarrassment had been too much. My pants were only halfway up my legs when Mercedes demanded to let them fall again. She simply pointed at me, and curled her finger upward to beckon my forward.

"_Nothing_ about you is stupid. Got that, Sam Evans?" Mercedes still had her top on, but that was soon taken care of. All was left had been our underwear, which we'd planned on tackling later. You couldn't pry me from her arms if you wanted to. Before, our movement was rigid and forced, but the elevated passion in the room took over and I could feel her warmth radiating. Her hips were bucking wildly, and our rhythm had yet to be established. I knew that it felt damn good, and that's all that I needed for now. I was so close, and the need to slow down was desperate.

"Mercedes?"

"Sammy," she'd moaned my name like never before.

All control was lost and with one rough thrust of the hips, my face went crashing down into hers, abruptly stopping _anything_ sexual for the night. Horrified, Mercedes ran to the bathroom and I used all of the profanity I knew to punish myself. My confusion returned when she came back with wet paper towels and tears swelling among her eyelids.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

"Sam, your face!"

The mirror in her hand reflected something that could have been in a horror film. My nose didn't even resemble a nose anymore, and the blood didn't look like it was going to stop.

"Head back!"

After she'd retrieved an icepack from her mini fridge, Mercedes ran around the room frantically as she redressed herself. Every now and then, she'd come back to check on me. The pain was minimal—I'm sure due to the adrenaline—but it was the blood that had me seeing stars.

"Oh, God, Sam! What are we going to do? You parents are going to kill me! _My_ parents are going to kill _you_! We have to get you to the emergency room, Sam!"

"What?"

"Stop laughing at me, now! This is _serious_."

The consequences were beyond me at the point. I'd found the entire situation hilarious and something we'd always look back on and laugh…even if Mercedes was prepared to add damage to my face at the moment. I'd caught her waist to pull her forward. At closer glance, she burst into tears and apologized until I physically stopped her with my lips.

"Hush all of that, I'll be fine."

"Have you seen your face?"

She reminded me with the mirror, and the bruise was going to be there for a while. The pain was starting to hit me and a trip to the hospital was in our near future, but not before I did what I needed to do.

"Stop crying, baby! It's not your—"

"It _is_! I don't know why I thought…I'm sorry, Sam."

Flustered, she'd hid her beautiful face away from me, forcing me to pry her hands off. Instead of convincing her how wrong she was, I'd given her the directions to bring me the backpack I'd brought along with my change of clothes.

"In the front zipper, there's a box. Get it out for me?"

She only apologized fifteen more times before finally handing me the box, but I'd returned it to her hands instead.

"What's this?"

"Open it and you'll see!" More tears fell as I winced at the sharp pain, but I forced her to tear open the small box before I passed out.

Once the contents had been revealed, a full on sob fest began. Her words were totally incomprehensive, but these tears weren't sad.

"Ugh! You're still sad. I don't like you said. I wanna fix it! Can I?" I repeated her words and the warmth of her face in my neck took away some of the pain. Mercedes held her toy sharks in her trembling hands. One hand held ice on my nose and the other rubbed her back soothingly.

"I gave these to _you_. No give backs—didn't you learn that in kindergarten?" I smiled remembering the rules she'd set for the toy sharks later at recess.

"You've been saving me for as long as I can remember. I think it's time for me to be a man and return the favor. One day, we're going to make love and it's going to be a memory that we'll always cherish. Tonight was a hiccup—so what? Now we know that planning every detail might not be the best. You're my world, Mercedes Jones…and tonight was a reminder of that. One fuck up isn't going to change anything."

Momentarily forgetting our current catastrophe, she knocked me out with a kiss until she got too close to the nose.

"Ow!"

"Shit, let's get you to the E.R., _now_."

There was no way I'd get away with a broken nose, so I'd agreed to make the calls tomorrow on the way to the hospital. I wanted to spend my last hours of freedom with Mercedes before our official lockdown began. While she sang that first song she'd heard in church to me the car, my mind wandered and eventually landed on a spot I could never fully comprehend until now.

All of our lives, we'd been put into categories. The world had its way of telling us who we wanted to be and shaping us into carbon copies of one another. To everyone else, I was someone who they wanted me to be. To Mercedes, I was Sam—someone that she'd let figure themselves out. When it was _us_, we didn't belong to a category, just each other.

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><p><strong>Thanks again! Let me know how you're feeling! :) <strong>


	3. Home Is Where The Heart Is

**Happy Samcedes Day! I hope you enjoy this new one-shot! Just a note, I don't know if Pinterest will still be around in the future, but I went ahead and added that in there. This universe might reappear one day, so don't forget about it! Ican't think of anything else to say, so enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. **

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><p>At precisely 3:30 in the afternoon, hyperactive and chatty teenagers emerged from the building with only one agenda: getting the hell out of school as soon as they could. On this particular day, the dynamic of students varied quite comically. Love-struck couples walked hand in hand as they were judged and secretly envied by their peers. Teddy bears galore, red roses everywhere in sight, and balloons floating in the air—this generation was serious about their romance. Until I was an upperclassman, Valentine's Day was absolute cupid <em>hell<em>. It was impossible to avoid the sweet gestures, the candy grams, roses pinned to lockers, and since I was in Glee club, the all too cheesy romantic serenades. In high school, everything about this day was disgustingly cute and annoying, and it was clear that these kids were continuing that tradition.

As difficult as it was to believe, high school was more than 10 years beyond me, and currently I was sitting in the parking lot picking up my fourteen year old daughter. She was nowhere to be found, and in my quest to search for her, I'd had to avert my eyes on many occasions due to PDA. Thankfully, when the puppy love was almost too much to handle, I'd spotted her sandy-brown curls almost immediately.

The moment we locked eyes, my smile vanished and could easily predict the car ride ahead. As the hopeless romantic that she was, Kara Evans had a well-thought and sweet plan for her week long crush. Judging from her face and pout, her drama queen level would most likely be at the far end of the spectrum today. Her arms folded over her red pea coat, and although she was feet away, the regular tinkle in her eyes had vanished. Kara was my bright bumblebee. She'd inherited the best and worst qualities from both Sam and I, and because of that, she was quite the character.

"Hello to you too, my dear."

As if on cue, Kara slid into the Explorer getting ready to put on an Oscar-winning performance. After discarding the hat that she knit herself, she positioned herself on the window, and finished with a heaving sigh. The comedian in me had the urge to roar the engine, and proceed to pick up my son from his after-school science program while ignoring her antics. The mom in me had other responsibilities.

"Are you going to sit there and pout, or tell me what happened?"

"You'd really make me relive the worst day over my entire life? Mom, that's cruel!" Bless her soul, the theatre department was lucky to have this one. After a constant string of over-the-top breathing exercises, Kara began her stage production right there in the car.

"The first time I saw his face, I knew he was the _one_, Mom. He sits next to me in Algebra 2, and last week, he asked me for a pencil! He's also a sophomore, and he plays the drums. He has these gorgeous blue eyes—eyes that I can just swim in. And his smile…"

Our relationship made all of this worthwhile. Kara and I had an open-door policy, and I assured her that she could come to me always. Ever since she'd muttered her first word, it'd been smooth sailing. Although the chances were low, I was hoping our relationship would never change. She was deep into her monologue now—making sure I knew every detail of their after-school study sessions and shy hellos in the hallways.

"And then today, after I gave him the cookies with perfectly iced math equations on them, he broke my heart into a million pieces!" Her tone was solemn now—much different from the joy she just had—and the single tear put me over the edge.

"Oh, baby girl…" My grip on her small hand was solid—conveying all of the love that I had for her. A swell of pride and sadness went through me as she wiped her own tear away, too proud to let more fall.

"With _my_ cookies in hand, he asked _Meg Johnson_ to the Cupid Shuffle tomorrow night!" With the theme of the dance being named after an old dance song from my generation, and her look of terror at the mention of his apparent love interest, the level of comedy had reached an all new height.

"Mom, this isn't funny! Why must you always do this?" I'd tried my best to keep it in, but as the melody of Cupid Shuffle came flooding back to me, my laughter had been let out of its cage.

"I'm sorry, Kara! I'm not laughing _at_ you," I said in my defense. However, my daughter found no amusement in the situation, and slumped against the window once more in silence. Realizing that I had 10 minutes to get over to the middle school, I started our mini excursion. The radio had a wicked sense of humor on Valentine's Day, and every other station was playing the best love songs of all time. After scanning to the fifth station, I had happy tears streaming down my face from trying to hold in my giggles. Kara leaned forward groaning, to turn the radio off completely.

"You're not funny."

"I'm just messing with you, munchkin," was my snarky remark as I pinched her cheeks lovingly. Kara had four years until her 18th birthday, but she'd always be my little girl, whether she liked it or not.

"This Kenny kid is obviously an idiot for not asking you to the dance first," I assured her. Short, and thick, Kara's curves had come in when she was younger. Her figure was adorable and her hazel eyes were the sweetest pair. If she weren't attracted to the idiots, she'd have guys running up my cell-phone bill. Just like her father, she'd have to trip over rocks before finding the true gems.

"But, you can't expect guys to read your mind! We're in the 21st century, and as a woman, you shouldn't have to wait around for them to call. Giving him cookies was a nice touch, but next time just be _blunt_! You know what you want, so go after it."

"Mom, _you_ baked cookies for Dad, and he wanted to marry you right then and there! Why can't it be that easy for me?" She questioned me—voice muffled by the window—without any consideration of my previous advice.

Sam, as much as I loved him, loved to exaggerate the path of our relationship. After repeatedly telling our kids that he'd fallen for me after one bite of my chocolate chip cookies, they'd been ripped of the truth of our past. We eventually found our way, but the journey was never easy. Now, my fourteen year old was running around baking cookies trying to find _her_ Sam Evans.

"Baby, for one, _stop_ listening to the stories your father tells you. And secondly, you can't base a relationship off of baked goods! Your daddy and I went through more than just a baking exchange. Relationships take _time_—_you_ have _time_. Stop trying to grow up so fast. Besides, are you ready for us to embarrass you whenever you bring a guy home?"

Sam didn't play games, and neither did I—especially with our children. I'd dread the day for any boy that had to go through our interrogation.

"Ugh, when are you two going to let me grow up?" I'd sparked _something_ in her, as she now sat face forward in the passenger seat.

"When you're _ready_, honey." And with that, I'd won, and she knew it. I rewarded her with a kiss on the cheek just as we pulled into loading roundabout at my youngest child, Quincy's school.

My handsome young man awaited my arrival and waved goodbye to his friends. Before Kara caught sight of what he had in his arms, she shot me a smile and a quiet thank you.

"You've always got something to say that makes sense eventually, so thank you," she said, emphasis on the eventually. I'd prided myself in teaching my kids lessons, even if it took them awhile to register them.

"_Anytime_, Kara—hey there, Q!" My 12 year old hopped in the backseat, sitting his treats down on the seat across the aisle. We did our daily fist pump, and he risked his life by ruffling Kara's hair.

"_Mom_."

"Don't start with your sister, boy. She's had a rough day!" My tone was only stern for Kara, while I winked playfully at my son.

On our route home, there were two arguments between the two—both of which started over Kara's bitter attitude and Quincy's need to flaunt his entire Valentine's Day stash. He was, in fact, the child of Sam Evans, so his number of pre-teen suitors did not surprise me one bit. With green orbs identical to his Dad's, and the cutest baby face ever complete with sandy-blonde curls, my baby boy was a charmer.

"Kara, if you would just stop being a hater, your life would be so much easier. I can't help it that girls love me, and guys can see that you're wearing a mask."

I had to physically keep her from lunging forward and going for the kill as we all exited the car to head inside. Quincy and his ridiculous speed of a cheetah gave him an advantage, and she'd never be able to catch him.

"If I didn't love him _so_ much…" Kara's nostrils flared and sarcasm was in full force.

"Don't even finish that sentence. Come on, Dad's been waiting."

My home immediately greeted me with an aroma so inviting that my stomach growled on cue. The Evans Family Valentine's Bash was in full preparation, and I could hardly wait to see what my husband had up his sleeve.

"Don't even think about playing video games until you take your things upstairs, Q!"

Sam's voice rumbled throughout the hallways. He'd been a busy man since I'd left—the living room spotless and food being prepped in the oven. The familiar melody of Michael Jackson's Wanna Be Startin' Somethin' bumped from the speakers. Sam's switching hips and "evolutionary" dance moves were a sight to see. Being the manly man that he was, he was dressed in a pink apron, equipped with glittery spatula in hand. My feet were light as a feather as I tip-toed into the kitchen to receive my VIP performance. Gyrating and all, Sam became one with the King of Pop and danced like it was his last. Feeling adventurous, I started my own dance party behind him without his knowledge.

It wasn't until his guitar solo in Beat It that he noticed my presence, and his reaction was golden. The way that he fell back to his routine of cooking as if he was never channeling M.J., was priceless.

"Hey baby, I missed you." The tips of his ears were burning, and the silence quickly ended when both of us erupted to rapturous laughter. My fingertips snaked up his arms while I pressed my body into his back. His familiar warmth acted as a blanket. Our hectic schedules and being parents left us yearning for time with one another.

When DC comics reached out to him during his last year as a graphics intern, they gave Sam an offer that he _wouldn't_ refuse. He was able to work from home and work with comics—his dorky dream come true. I'd been opening up for big names before I graduated from college, so when I signed my first deal, the only big change had been the increase of people knowing my name. Every night at every venue of my first headliner was magical. We both took off time once Kara and Quinn surprised us, but as they got older, we resumed our lives full speed. My decision to start my own label and begin my fourth album had been an overzealous one, and time management had become my middle name.

"What was up with Kara? Did the cookies work?" Sam's eager lips peppered down my neck, which caused me to squirm all over.

"No, and what did I tell you about telling them that story? You've got to stop making our relationship sound like a fairytale." His only response was his tongue wrestling with mine—I could only imagine the horror Kara and Quinn would have if they unlucky enough to catch us.

Distancing ourselves to prevent any more dramatic scenes, Sam pouted because he also didn't want to risk it either. When the kids were younger, they'd enforced the 'Kissy Jar' to keep us from kissing all of the time. Personally, I found their shenanigans hilarious, but being the repeat offender that he was, Sam tried to avoid it like the plague. He'd complained that his children were ninjas and that his entire life savings would be in that jar soon if he wasn't sneakier.

"But Mercy you're my queen. So, isn't it like a fairytale anyway?" He bit my ear after I playfully plucked his nose. The man had me enclosed against the counter in a crying fit—he knew my weak spots and his wiggling fingers never gave me a chance.

"Don't make us pull out the jar. We still have it, you know!" The smart ass remark came from the one and only Quincy Evans. Kara and Q leaned against the kitchen doorframe with disgusted expressions. Paying no attention to either of them, Sam engulfed my waist with his arm.

"My house, my wife, _my_ lips—I do want I want, sucker!" Joke all he wanted, Sam and I both knew he was thankful that the jar had only been a threat this time.

The kids joined us at the island, and while Kara looked changed into all black and was humming an Alanis Morissette tune, Quincy was ready for the activities. Sam and I decided on Kara's first Valentine's Day that we would have a family filled event instead of romancing one another after sending the kids off to a babysitter. One day, they'd be in relationships of their own. Until that time, we'd enjoy our tradition and each other.

"Alright, Evans family, are you ready to have some fun?" Board games, baking cookies, eating delicious food, and ending the night with A Charlie Brown Valentine were all on the itinerary for the day.

The chorus of approval with the exception of Kara's groan was exhilarating. In a straight line, we marched to the living room in step, and the day of activity began. Quincy inherited his competitive spirit from me, and had no problem flaunting his victory in the first round of Twister. We played rounds of Uno and Life—Sam's face matched his eyes as he saw his babies' plastic game piece mini vans fill up with children.

The bake-off started after we ate ourselves into oblivious. Sam's taco's and Mexican casserole were as delicious as they smelled. Surprisingly, there was room for cupcakes after we had fun icing them. Kara won the competition hands down. Her cupcake was a beautiful, yet mildly disturbing heart attached to a ticking bomb. Finally, she'd cracked a smile. As we snuggled up on the couch for the feature film of the night, she'd even entitled herself as Charlie's love counselor.

"Come _on_, Charlie! You're never going to get the Little Red Haired Girl with that attitude!"

Kara's commentary was flawless, and she'd dug herself out of her funk with minimal help from us. The sky was dark outside, and Q's eyes fluttered every two seconds to try to keep alert.

"Time for bed, kiddo! Once you start fighting it, it's a done deal." Stubborn Quincy refused, and made it until the end. He'd missed most of the movie by dosing off, but made sure he was around for the end of the night festivities. Sam and I always ended the night with a love song, and this year we'd put two weeks into our silly duet of "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart."

We took our bows and accepting the goodnight hugs from our lovelies. He'd almost let them get upstairs to get ready for bed without revealing the surprise.

"Sam, don't forget!" He'd been too caught up in making up for lost kisses to realize his temporary lapse of memory.

"Kara, Q, get back down here!"

"What? I thought we cleaned up everything," Kara asked looking around for anything she'd missed.

"We just wanted to make sure you got your rest…"

Sam and I shared knowing glances and almost burst with excitement, unable to keep the secret any longer.

"…because in the morning we a flight to catch to Orlando!" Sam finished my beginning statement, clutching onto my arm for support. He was the biggest kid, ever, and I was certain that tomorrow would be more exciting for him.

"What's in Orlando…?" Quincy stopped short when he and Kara both froze in their spots. We were tackled by our linebacker children and attacked with hugs, kisses, and tears.

Busy was the story of our lives and up until now, the chance to take our kids to Disney World had never come. They held the tickets in their shaky hands and ran upstairs where they'd never get any sleep now.

That gleam in his eyes said everything and the boy had me in tears.

"That was more than worth it," I mumbled into his shirt, embarrassed that I'd marked a spot with my tears.

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby," Sam pulled away to hand me a red bag. The man was truly a magician. Usually I'd catch on to his plans, but this was completely out of the blue.

"Now you _know_, we've discussed this…" I paused before pulling a golden box from the drawer of the side table. We made a rule 15 years ago that we'd stop giving Valentine's gifts, but broke that rule continuously.

"You first," we'd said in unison. He kissed my brow and led me to the couch. Without question, Sam had my feet in his lap, ready for the foot rub that would indeed happen later. I glared him down until he caved, opening his gift first.

As a premium member and addict of Pinterest, my gift board was filled with ideas, and one day, I'd come across the perfect idea.

"Mercy," his breathless expression accompanied with his inability to speak was enough for me. His new engraved guitar picks would never replace his originals that he lost in our basement flood the year prior, but it was worth trying.

Before he kissed me, he'd rested his forehead against mine. We drank each other up with our eyes—loving and grateful thoughts running through my mind.

Sam had borderline opened the gift himself as I took my time with it. He'd done it again, and I'd never know how he managed to pull off such grand gestures.

Many of our possessions had been lost in the flood, but most of them were replaceable. Those that had been forever lost held special memories. Among the memory cards, baby and wedding albums had been destroyed. Sam had somehow found all of those pictures and put them into one Evans Family Album.

"Evans, _how_?"

I flipped the pages with trembling fingers taking in all of the memories again—reliving some of the best times of our life together.

"It was hard, but I found our wedding photographer! She had the files on back-up. And remember those copies of Kara's and Q's baby pictures that we sent to our parents?" I nodded mindlessly, fascinated by what he'd done.

"Well, they were in storage, and they sent me copies. I don't know why we hadn't thought of it sooner…"

There were no words for the rest of the night as we thanked one other in the most loving way possible. Valentine's Day was just a sample of the loved that we shared in this family. Our house wasn't a home without one another, and wherever _my_ heart—Sam, Kara, and Quincy—was truly where home was.

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><p><strong>Thoughts? I'm really trying with the cutesy-cute. Y'all know I'm a sucker for angst. Thanks for sticking with me! <strong>


	4. Heartbeat

**I died from last night's episode, so I present this to you from the Samcedes afterlife. The only thing I have to say is thank you so much for the kind reviews and alerts! I dedicate this chapter to my friends that got me through a rough semester last year (Stephanie, Steffy, Maelle, Ashanti, Nora...) the list goes on, truly. This year has been exponentially better than the last, so thanks for helping me through some crazy times. But I'm not here to talk about me! Enjoy the chapter, and my inbox is always open for prompts. **

**I hope you like how I tied in the Mercedes Mafia with this one. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee!**

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><p>Masses of people storm the sidewalk while passing through thick, smug air. Never stopping; wandering in a straightforward path—each on a separate mission. Street vendors screaming desperately and the impatient shrill of taxi cabs fill the sound waves. The frigid, bitter temperature reflecting the almost always unfamiliar faces—each one unique in their own way. Unidentifiable smells force noses into sweaters and prissy pigeons give a new meaning to "watch where you're going."<p>

It had taken almost two years for Sam Evans—small town, country boy—to adapt to New York City. One day, this world had been his nightmare. Eventually, it'd become his life. The Southern blond had no intentions of making a life in the city that _refused_ to sleep. He did, however, have intentions of making a life with a Ms. Mercedes Jones. Several years prior, they'd went from one roadblock—Shane Tinsley—to yet another—_college_. After spending four amazing, yet agonizing years at Tennessee State without his lady, the move had been almost immediate. It wasn't settling for something he didn't want. Sam was going after the one thing that he needed.

But of course, their trip would never catch a break from clutter in the road. Their current love triangle was between the two of them, and the music industry.

Sam wasn't a fool. He was fully aware that the first time he'd put her name in lights wouldn't be the last. Rachel Berry might have been destined to be a start, but Mercedes Jones was going to change lives with her immortal gift.

"We're going to be seeing your name in lights for the rest of our lives," is what he said, and what he'd meant_—their _lives, being the emphasis.

Her stardom was a given. What he hadn't known was what it would take to get there or how much it would affect his plan to make her his wife.

With red roses from the cart on the street in hand, Sam made his way into the offices of Sony Records with his armor ready. The battle before him would take the entire strength and ammunition of an army. His troop lacked numbers, but his poppy dog eyes and charming soul were ready for the battlefield. The secret weapon of choice: Sam's heart.

Marie, the desk clerk, had lived in New York all of her life. She was a carbon copy of Fran Drescher, only with a nastier attitude. So when Sam first flashed his blinding smile and turn on his Southern gent charm, she was not amused and threatened to call security. That had been two years ago when Mercedes first signed to Sony. Recently, Marie learned to accept Sam was there to stay, and eventually made the effort to learn his name.

"Mornin', kid!" Unusually chipper and delightful, the woman at the age of thirty was the main source of light in the main office. Her desk, along with the walls, had eaten way too many candy hearts and thrown up Cupid. Fresh daisies sat in a vase on Marie's desk and Sam couldn't help but notice the distinct sparkle shining from her earlobes.

"Who's the lucky guy, might I ask?" Sam leaned against the counter that separated himself and the sassy secretary. He knew she was in a committed relationship, but jokingly asked anyway.

"My fiancé, and don't you forget it! I know I'm gorgeous, but I'm getting married, and you can't have me." Marie proudly flashed her new rock in the blond's face, igniting such joy in his eyes.

"Marie, that's great! Frank finally came to his senses, huh?" The two shared a hug—Marie nodded on his shoulder, bursting at the seams.

"He tried to be romantic by hiding the ring in a biscuit at breakfast this morning. But once I choked, and accused him of trying to murder me, his plan sort of fell apart. Luckily, he brought the ring to my attention before I pressed charges. Isn't that so sweet?"

"_Leave it to Marie to have such a bizarre proposal"_, Sam thought.

"The sweetest—congrats, Marie! Make sure to send us an invite."

"Thank you, Sam," she beamed. Her eyes suddenly popped every so brightly.

"Speaking of which, I'm guessing those flowers aren't for me!" Her eyes roamed over the dozen red roses that he'd set down on the counter.

"These aren't, but this one is," Sam smoothly revealed a single red rose from the inner pocket of his pea coat to only received a shocked Marie.

"No _wonder_ she fell in love with you. What do you have planned for the day?" She asked, adding her rose to vase, not caring how silly it looked with the original arrangement.

"That depends on if I can get her out of the studio. What do you think my chances are?"

"Sam, it's _Valentine's Day_."

"Marie, it's _Mercedes_."

Eyebrows raised and lips pursed, Sam knew she'd gotten his point.

"Good luck, tiger," she winked playfully.

"I'll need it!"

He waved goodbye and prepped for the war zone. His plan was that there _was_ no plan. With no script, Sam was ready to make it up as he went along. The amount of pressure Mercedes was under to finish this album grew every day. He wouldn't be surprised if he had to drag her out of there kicking and screaming.

Sam crept closer to Studio C, and the soulful sounds of an R&B track graced his ears. Whenever the track would get to a specific point in the song, it would completely shut off, and start from the beginning. He took one more listen—this clip even shorter than before—and pushed himself through the door to face Mercedes.

It was 9:00 a.m., so the usual posse of producers and studio engineers were absent. It was just Mercedes, her album producer Marcus, and the music.

The song hadn't stopped this time, and Mercedes' eyes were closed as she lost herself in the music. Marcus blew a kiss to a sky before shaking Sam's hand, which turned into a hug. He pushed a button out of many on the panel to mute the booth.

"Thank _God_ you're here. I love her, but I'm about to lost my mind."

"That bad, huh?" His expression that read, "Are you serious?" had Sam laughing—he understood perfectly.

"She called me at 5, and we've been here since 5:30! Do me a favor and get her out of here, okay? She's overkilling her voice."

Sam had been disappointed to roll over and find his girlfriend missing from the bed. In the two years that the couple lived together, he'd not had the chance to properly take her out on this special day. Mercedes was probably the hardest working artist in the industry right now, which meant she was the hardest on herself. Sam couldn't remember the last time she had a day off.

Marcus looked up to see a frustrated Mercedes. Unmuting the booth, he muttered, asking for a prayer. The instrumental continued to play, but lacked vocals. Mercedes' face was in her hands, completely oblivious that her boyfriend was present.

"MJ, why'd you stop?"

"That run at the end was awful, didn't you hear?" She asked, still refusing to look through the glass.

"It was on mute, but I'm 100% sure that it was perfect." Like Mercedes, Marcus was the hardest working producer in the game, and he often pushed himself to the limit. He appeared to be running off zero hours of sleep, and was exhausted.

"Why was it—Sam?" The diva found her shine among seeing her guy and bolted from the recording booth in record time.

"What are you doing baby—" Her face softened once the flowers were in her grasp.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mercedes," Sam's lips softly brushed her forehead, her eyes fluttered shut at the touch and mention of the holiday.

Mercedes through her head back, groaning, before opening her eyelids.

"I can't believe I forgot! Sam, my head is everywhere. I'm sorry, baby."

He kissed away her pout, earning a clearing of the throat from Marcus. He pulled back, taking a look at his girl. Not any less beautiful, but Mercedes dressed down in sweats and her black framed glasses. As much as he wanted to believe the smile she was offering, he wanted the real thing.

"It's _o-kay_. How about I take you away from here for the day?" Sam crooned, trying to mesmerize her with his green set of eyes. He wasn't expecting her to crack just yet, so his hopes hadn't been completely crushed when his girlfriend looked away.

"Sam, I can't."

"But you can…"

"Marcus, can we have a minute?" Mercedes asked, peeking around Sam's shoulder. There was no need to ask because he happily obliged.

Leaving the two alone, they spoke in unison with individual statements.

"It's one day," Sam pleaded.

"You know how important this is," Mercedes tried to explain. She bit her lip, failing at her attempt to block out how hurt he'd been.

"Listen, we're on a tight schedule, and once it's over—"

"You'll have promotion, which means I'll be seeing you less. I know the routine."

Sam had been with Mercedes since the beginning, giving him an exclusive behind the scenes to each high and low. He watched her struggle to get her first single off the ground and into the hands of big names. He'd also been there when she was nominated for her first Grammy, _and_ when she'd come up short, losing the award to another artist. Mercedes' rise to fame was something both of them had dreamt of, but neither had been ready for.

"That's not fair, Sam. I need this," Mercedes whispered, completely breaking down.

This hadn't been the direction he'd expected—her tears cutting through him like a sharp, unforgiving blade. His lady had always exceeded expectations. At her debut album party, her producers praised her name and couldn't wait to see what she'd do next. In the first week of sales, the album went straight to #1 on iTunes, to #2 on the R&B Billboard charts, and sold half a million copies. Mercedes and Sam both thought that was excellent, but didn't see the full picture until she had her first appearance on Saturday Night Live. From there, everything spiraled. Her first tour, which targeted college campuses, sold out every show. She was booked for every talk show and radio appearance across the nation. Mercedes Jones had become a household name overnight. Between Sam's job at Viacom working with new cartoons at Nickelodeon, and her life on stage, the two had to schedule time for one another. Although almost every day had been frustrating, he stood by her throughout all of the craziness. And because of that, Sam was there to catch her when she fell.

Within 9 months of her last album release, Mercedes was thrown back into the studio to work on her next album. Instead of stretching out her days, she was forced to crank out 14 new tracks in a month. Convinced that she'd produced her best work under pressure, Mercedes was devastated to find out that the album didn't do as well as she'd hoped. It hadn't tanked—selling a quarter of a million in its first week—but the media was unaccepting of her new sound. In addition to her ballads, the diva had tried a few dance tracks that she loved. But when that sleazy reporter from the Rolling Stone ripped her album to shreds, many others followed in suit. The number of interviews dwindled and the opportunities to perform were rare. Sam did his best to reassure his girl that the media was complete bullshit at times, but she would take no pity. After only a month of taking a break, she'd dedicated herself to writing again, and now she was in the studio every day.

The more she pushed herself to revamp her image, the less meaningful her music became. Mercedes knew she was phenomenal, deep down, but at the surface was her need to impress the label again.

"What you need is a break, honey. The studio isn't going anywhere, and if Marcus can help it, neither is the label." Sam held her comfortingly in his arms shivering, just as he had many nights before.

The beating of his heart calmed her, and the fear of losing it all was stored away for the time being. It'd been a constant worry of hers. 150% or until the job was done, had been her motto. Mercedes had worked her ass off, and she needed for this next piece of work to show people that she wasn't going anywhere.

"If you let me take you out of here, all of your troubles for vanish—at least for one day." With eyes so genuine, she knew he was only looking out for her best wishes. Sam had been a trooper throughout this whirlwind without minimal complaints. And she did miss him. She was almost ready to make a compromise when she realized her current state of apparel.

"Sam, look at me! I'm not going anywhere like this," she said, now self-conscious of her messy bun.

"I _know_ you have your bag Mercedes," Sam instantly solved her problem, crossing his arms over his chest.

"_Damn_," she thought, cursing herself. He knew her more than she did sometimes, and of course he would remember her special bag. After one wardrobe malfunction gone wrong, Mercedes learned to pack a bag full of extra clothes, make-up, hair products, buttons, and thread, everywhere she went. It was hefty, but helpful.

Tears threatened to fall yet again, but this time she was overwhelmed with how thankful she was for this man. When Mercedes was at her worst—overdramatic and so unappealing—he'd made her feel beautiful. Sam never let go of her hand. In this industry, you had to deserve the title of being a star. Sam, on the other hand, reminded her on a daily basis that she'd earned that title the first time he heard her sing.

"Just give me a few minutes," Mercedes stalked over to her bag in one of the leather chair whilst ignoring Sam's fist pump of victory.

Fifteen minutes passed, and once Mercedes emerged from the restroom, Sam was waiting outside for her. She eyed the blindfold in his hand suspiciously, and already began to protest when she saw his smirk.

"_Hell to the no_!"

While Sam Evans lived for surprises, Mercedes hated them.

"Do you trust me?" The question was _unfair_, but she'd already gone further than she thought she would today. There was no need to back out now. And of course she trusted him, just not his wild imagination.

"Just put the damn blindfold on," her hard demeanor cracking quickly. Sam spun her around, tying the satin piece of cloth around her eyes. Mercedes jerked forward once his teeth nibbled on her earlobe, sending spasms throughout her entire body. To her dismay, Sam's warmth disappeared. Now, she was being led throughout the building by his firm grip on her hand.

"What on Earth…,"she heard the secretary Marie speak. Sam told her she'd find out tomorrow, and to have a great day. Mercedes felt the February chill go through her, and wished she'd packed warmer clothes. Reading her mind, Sam draped his pea cot over her shoulders, not giving Mercedes any time to think about it.

Mercedes was in the dark, and Sam had the upper hand. With a snap of his fingers, she heard what she believed was a taxi pulling up to the curb. Sam helped her get into the backseat, and she soon realized she'd been in one of her town cars.

"Where to, Mr. Evans?" Asked one of her favorite drivers, Percy, whose distinct British accent immediately revealed his identity.

Sam stayed silent, only shifting towards the front. The little sneak had planned every detail, making sure Mercedes didn't know anything. Even though her eyes were clothes, she pretended glare at him when he kissed her on the cheek.

The car finally stopped, and the blindfold had yet to be taken off. Mercedes itched to know what was going on, but she was certain he would torture her just a little bit longer. The door opened, and her guy's hand took her. She was carefully led into a building—she only knew because the sudden increase of temperature.

There was a distant murmur of voices, but Mercedes still wasn't able to identify her destination.

"Sam! Tell me where we are _now_. I'm starting to have this creepy feeling that you're taking me to my death," she dug her nails into his skin.

"If it makes you feel any better, we're getting on an elevator now!"

Sam smiled, pushing the 5th floor button, and laughed at her sharp intake of air.

"Oh, because creepy elevators make everything better."

The doors opened with a ding, and just as she began to give him a piece of her mind, the blindfold was off. It took her less than a second to figure out where she was. Mercedes was utterly confused and disturbed at the same time.

"Sam, what are we doing at a hospital?" The girl had never been prone to the sterile, yet gross surroundings of a hospital. And when Sam's grandfather passed away in college, he'd expressed his disconcert with them as well. Why they were there instead of some fancy restaurant was beyond her.

"This isn't just any hospital, babe. We're at St. Jude's."

His thumb was ready to wipe away the one that got away once she realized what was happening.

"I found out that some of your _biggest_ fans are on this floor. Some of them have leukemia and then others have lymphoma. They don't know you're coming, but I went ahead and spoke to the nurses earlier in the week."

A huge lump formed in Mercedes' throat as she tried to get past the words "leukemia" and "lymphoma."

"I was thinking you could sing some songs for them? You know, unplugged, no media—just you and the kids. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—if this is too much—"

He accepted her warm lips, and their tears fell together as they broke apart.

"No. No more apologies from you. This is perfect, and I love you. Just promise to not let go of my hand?"

The thought of it was impossible for Sam, and together, they pushed back the double doors. Upon their entrance, the excitement level rose in the room. A crowd formed around Mercedes and Sam, both patients and nurses at their side. It was overwhelming, to say the least, but the joy in their eyes had been the adrenaline to push through. Sam broke away to meet with a nurse that he'd talked to on the phone.

So many little boys and girls, of all ages, went up and hugged Mercedes. By the time she'd made her rounds, her make-up had been ruined. Ricky, a six year old with a Hodgkin lymphoma, had particularly warmed her heart. The boy had been silent the entire time, but never let go of her arm.

"Why are you crying, Ms. Mercedes?" It was the first time she heard him speak. She wanted to tell him the truth and tell him that she was sad. She wanted to tell him that she hated cancer and how it affected so many people's lives. She wanted to tell Ricky the truth about how she'd lost her grandmother when she was young to breast cancer. She was crying because she wanted to do something about it—to cure them all, but she knew she couldn't.

"I'm crying, because I'm so happy I got to meet you all today," she smiled at him, then towards her entire crowd.

"Will you sing us a song, Ms. Mercedes?" A little black girl, Kristen, who was only 8 years old, sat on the other side of Mercedes. She'd been too busy playing games and answering questions that she hadn't had a chance to sing yet.

"Of course, angels!" Mercedes planned on singing a capella, but her superhero came out of nowhere with a guitar. After mouthing "I love you too" back to Mercedes, Sam began to play the opening riffs of the first song she'd written.

After singing almost every song from both of her albums, patients were starting to get a little tired, but Mercedes wasn't ready to leave yet. She'd taken a billion pictures, signed autographs until she had a hand cramp, and almost met every kid on the floor. This wasn't her ideal Valentine's Day, but she would never be able to thank Sam enough for this. The entire day, she focused on keeping a smile on their faces, which had been her main goal as an artist. If her fans weren't happy, then she wasn't doing what she'd planned to do.

Nurse Kathy, the woman who'd set everything up enveloped Mercedes in the biggest hug. The both of them were a sobbing mess, and pulled away laughing.

"Ms. Jones, thank you for coming in and doing this!"

"_Mercedes_, Nurse Kathy, I told you that. And you'll have to thank my wonderful boyfriend for putting this together. He deserves all of the credit," Mercedes leaned back into his embrace.

"Well I'm thanking the both of you, then."

"Are you sure there isn't anyone else I can meet? I'd really like to say hi to just one more."

Mercedes was practically begging for it. These kids had ignited a new purpose within her, and she couldn't get enough.

"Well there is a girl, Missy. Sixteen, and your biggest fan, actually. She's the oldest on the floor, so she keeps to herself at times. Her extended family was supposed to come today, but they had trouble booking a flight. She's had a pretty rough day, though."

Sam knew her all too well, and at the mention of her being the biggest fan, she wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You have to at least let me try, Nurse Kathy," Mercedes pouted, copying Sam's similar methods.

No persuasion was necessary, and she was being led down a hallway. The last door on the right was closed shut, and the nurse gave her a hopeful grin before knocking and entering.

Mercedes didn't see her face, but saw the young girl laid on her side.

"Missy, you have a visitor!"

It took a while for Missy to stir, but once she realized that what was happening wasn't a dream, all she could do was stare.

Mercedes couldn't get over how gorgeous her tan skin was. Missy had beautiful dark-brown eyes that reminded her of Hershey Kisses. The zebra print scarf that hid her shaven hair had her initials sewn into the fabric. Mercedes smiled at the sight of the shirt she was wearing. Nurse Kathy hadn't been joking—she definitely was her biggest fan. The Mercedes Mafia—the name a group of her hardcore fans came up with—shirt she had on was limited edition, only sold during her first tour. On her wrists, were bangles similar to the ones she wore, that had been sold through her online merchandise store.

"Hi Missy, I'm Mercedes."

The girl stared again before choking on her own sobs. Mercedes held Missy, telling her that if she kept crying, they'd never get to talk. The New Jersey native was shy at first, but soon opened up to Mercedes. It was after the first show she'd seen while visiting her sister on campus that she'd been diagnosed with Leukemia. She was 14 at the time, and deemed her life over.

"At that time, all I cared about was impressing boys or staying with the 'in' crowd. Little did I know that _none_ of that would matter once I started treatment. I started to lose a lot of friends, and all I had was my family, and _your_ music."

Missy's words made an imprint on Mercedes' heart. Their entangled fingers stayed that way for hours as they talked. Mercedes found herself telling some of her Glee club memories and even how she felt after the ridicule of her second album.

"I thought I was letting all of my fans down and sometimes I didn't even have the strength to get up in the morning," Mercedes admitted to those dark days that she'd been embarrassed to remember.

"Your strength will forever inspire me, Missy. How did you do it? When you felt alone all of those times, how did you make it through the day?"

She seemed to be taken aback by the question, and pondered before giving her an answer.

"Sometimes, I still wonder the same thing. Instead of day by day, I just had to take it one heartbeat at a time."

Mercedes promised to visit again before leaving, and begged for Missy to send her a copy of the photo they'd taken together if it were possible. While most would think it was the other way around, Mercedes had met her idol, and wanted to remember every detail.

Over dinner, Mercedes took reign of the conversation. Half of the time she shared stories from the day, and the other time she was thanking Sam.

"Today…was everything. I just have so much inspiration to write and record. This next record is going to be for them, Sam. Screw the media—screw what those assholes think," Mercedes said burying her head into his chest as they walked towards their town car.

"So I'm guessing you want to go back to the studio, now?" He asked her once they got comfortable in the back.

"Nope. I just want to go home with my guy—is that okay?"

Percy took them home, and although both of them were exhausted, they couldn't resist the Sex and The City marathon on television. Sam and Mercedes almost destroyed an entire carton of Chunky Monkey with absolutely no regrets.

"Charlotte is _so_ your spirit animal," Sam spoke during a commercial break, trying to dig out the rest of the ice cream.

"Shut up, I'm **so** Carrie Bradshaw!"

"You're Charlotte, and I'm Samantha!"

Sam was completely serious as he licked the spoon, but Mercedes was confused with his formula. Catching her eyebrow raise, he sighed playfully.

"You're a brunette, and I'm a blond. That's why!"

They laughed for 10 minutes straight—whenever they'd stop, they'd just start up again. Glancing up at the clock, Mercedes inwardly sighed knowing that they would have to head off to sleep soon.

She watched the reflected images from the TV flash in Sam's eyes, knowing that she could do this forever.

"Sam?"

"Yea, baby?" He hadn't looked at her yet, still invested in whether Carrie and Mr. Big were going to stay together.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

The rise and fall of his chest had paused for a quick second. The power button on the remote control felt the wrath of Sam's thumb.

"Play that back?" Eyes wide like a doe, she'd taken him by surprise.

"I want to get married, and spend the rest of our lives together. My heart doesn't beat without yours, Sammy. I want you to be my husband," Mercedes let out a shaky breath.

Sam startled her by jumping out of the bed. He paced around the room in his boxers, hands above his head.

"Mercedes!"

"Sam…" The kid's face was red and he looked like he was going to be sick. Mercedes was certain she'd be making another trip back to a different hospital tonight if he didn't breathe.

"I was supposed to ask!" He whined like a little boy, and it took everything in her to not bust out laughing.

"Does it matter, Sam—"

Mercedes stopped herself this time already knowing the answer. Sam opened the drawer of their nightstand, rummaging through the papers. The velvety box was a definite game changer, and now Mercedes had trouble with telling her body and brain that she needed oxygen.

Sam's mom's engagement ring had been passed down through all of the women before her. When he approached her before moving to New York, she practically pounced on him from exhilaration.

Down on one knee, Sam knelt before his beautiful lady with trembling hands.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to do this?" His attempt at shaking off his nerves failed and now they just looked at one another, thinking about what would be happening in the next few moments.

"You would make me the happiest man in the entire galaxy if you said yes to being Mrs. Sam Evans."

Once the box opened to reveal the ring she'd seen many times before, Mercedes fell forward into his arms and knocked them on the floor. The two were on the floor hugging, kissing, and murmuring how much they loved one another.

"Hell yes!"

She said finally as they remained in their current position. Mercedes stared at the ring and then back at her fiancé. Green met brown before lips captured one another into a passionate frenzy. Just like their lips, their hearts were in sync.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! <strong>


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